Last Days Of Summer
Updated 2008-04-18 19:18:54
Open on a shot of the wide-open blue Texas sky, a football flying through the air. T. Rex's "Bang A Gong" plays; the football falls through the sky accompanied by the song's jaunty guitar, and we follow it as it falls right into the hands of a shirtless boy leaping through the air and falling beautifully right into a crystalline pool. The camera pulls back and starts ranging around the pool in slow motion. Tim Riggins floats on a raft wearing aviators and a straw cowboy hat, flanked by lovely ladies; Smash holds court in the shallow end. Matt Saracen sits at the side of the pool with Landry, looking intently across at Julie, who is smoking hott in a red lifeguard one-piece. Julie, chin tucked coyly, doesn't return Matt's gaze, but instead watches another lifeguard as he walks in slow motion toward her, smiling.
Matt wonders aloud to Landry why Julie is "staring at him like that" and says since she's his girlfriend and all, she shouldn't be "lookin' at Swedish people" so much. Intrigue! Who is this dark brunet Swede?! Landry tells Matt that he just needs to ask himself: "WWRD -- what would Riggins do?" Matt is quick to point out that Riggins would not even be in this situation: "Riggins is captain of the S.S. Ta-Tas over there." Please note that, as Matt gestures toward Riggins floating around in his own personal Lady Boat, he does so using a pool noodle that's been wrapped in a knot. Aw, Matt, are you trying to indicate something to us? Landry nods in agreement, observing in amazement that Riggins has probably slept with half the girls in their school, "Not to mention some of their moms...and sisters." Hey, I've seen Ole' Sis . I'm not so sure that's gold-star material there.
Smash calls over to Matt with the usual SmashTalk -- "Just ride my coattails this season." Matt responds with only a sarcastically goofy grin back at Smash, but Landry calls out "Hey Smash!" clearly just trying to curry favor. Matt asks Landry why he's such a tool; as Landry stutters in response, he's stopped short in his own inarticulate stuttering when he catches a glimpse of -- we see as the camera swings around -- Tyra Collette, in a teeny bikini, pushing up a deep red Rocket Pop and sucking on it in slow motion. Let me join Landry in observing: "Ooooh, myyyy, Gooooddd."
Matt follows Landry's wagging tongue and remarks, "Never gonna happen," a sentiment with which Landry sweetly, but unconvincingly, disagrees. Matt talks over Landry's stuttering, wondering if that is why he's trying out "for the team." What?! Landry is trying out for the football team? Oh, Lord. The slow-motion camera of teenage lust continues moving around sensuously. That is, until it picks up in its sights one Tami Taylor, looking hot in aviators and a little white cover-up. The boys glance in her direction, almost as if they're looking for another hot girl in a bikini to ogle. Except Tami? Is clearly eight months pregnant.
There may as well be a needle "scraaatch" on the soundtrack the minute Julie catches a glimpse of her mother walking toward her. The camera snaps out of slo-mo, and the sexed-up song fades out as real-life sounds of a busy public space fade in. Perfectly paced and choreographed; I'm going to guess that Matt's noodle will stay knotted as long as his girlfriend's pregnant mom is waddling around him.
Tami chirps up at Julie, asking her to watch her things. As she doffs her coverup, Julie starts saying "No, no no no" and then gets off her perch to follow her mom to the pool ladder. Julie bitches that Tami is always showing up there; Tami bitches right back that Julie never talks to her, her father isn't home, "and there ain't a room big enough in the house to contain me. I'm gettin' in the pool." Which she proceeds to do, as Julie whines that her mom is just there to check up on her. Tami denies it, and then she sinks into the water with a relieved moan. Julie persists, and Tami replies that she isn't "spying," she's just "curious." And then, if she weren't wearing her hot aviators, I think we'd see a gossipy glint in her eye as she says, "I'm curious about the Swede. I'm curious what Matt Saracen thinks about the Swede." Julie continues bitching as Tami suddenly looks a bit stunned. The camera pans in slowly on Tami treading and she says "Honey? I think my water just broke."
Cut to Tami in a hospital bed -- Wilco's "Muzzle of Bees" playing softly in the background -- where she's already pushing. Connie Britton has decided to play this labor scene less "thrashing around" and more "resigned to her fate as a woman." It's sort of a nice choice. She exhaustedly says she can't do it anymore, she's too tired. Julie, at her side, reassures her mom. And, no matter how bitchily teeny Julie can get, what a sweetheart, being there for her mom, holding her hand. Can you imagine how horrifying the birth process must seem to a teenager? Tami pleadingly asks, "Where the hell is your father?"
He's on a plane, staring with complete blank anxiety out the window. Then he's running through the hospital hallways -- still in his TMU coaching outfit, so straight from practice -- and then he's busting into the room where Tami and Julie are. "Hey babe, hey babe," he says over and over. Tami, laying her head back in complete exhaustion, looks over at him and says, "Oh, honey. Oh, honey, I'm so glad you're here. I'm so happy you're here." And then I dissolve into a pile of tears. I think I'm so used to seeing television or movie births treated with distancing "comedy" -- the woman screeching, "YOU GOT ME INTO THIS, BUSTER" or some such nonsense -- that this sweetness, these two leaning on one another so completely, just completely got me.
The Wilco song gets more insistently jangly, as the OB at the edge of the bed catches Eric's eye and gives him a nod. She calls out to Tami that it's time, she's gonna get this baby, but she needs some help. Tami sort of confusedly mutters, "I can't...I don't...I..." as she goes into the final stretch. Julie looks on, both confused by all the pain and in wonder at what her mom is doing, while Eric leans in and puts his lips to Tami's forehead. Seriously, I can't stop sobbing at this scene. There are a million people in the room, but somehow, it seems that Tami and Eric have carved out a private space -- even, to an extent, excluding Julie. This is something they're doing together. A cry, and then the mucky little baby is laid on Tami's chest. Julie's chin quivers, and Coach whispers, "Welcome to the world."
Credits. Same music, somewhat faster-paced editing, definitely a new palette - more royal blues and sunny yellows. I like it!
Slammin' Sammy Mead voiceover while the camera speeds through town. Sammy is freaking psyched about the new season of Panther football. He says it's "120 degrees on the gridiron, and the Panthers are entering the fiery gates of hell week." Cut to the football field, where boys are suited up and galloping at one another. Sammy exposits -- and every show in the world must wish they'd come up with a talk-radio device for bringing folks up to speed during season openers -- that he's wondering whether the New Coke, "Bill McGregor, the Tennessee Tyrant" will be able to fill Coach Taylor's shoes. Which I, for one, think is the wrong question. It's not whether he'll fill Coach's shoes; it's whether he'll communicate as well with his hair.
Sammy continues expositing, explaining that the heart of the state championship offense is back -- QB Matt Saracen, running back Smash Williams, and fullback Tim Riggins. Then, as we cut to Landry -- LANDRY! -- adjusting his helmet and mouthguard, Sammy notes that the most exciting part of pre-season is "new talent." Landry promptly gets flattened right onto the steaming hot field.
Tami and Eric walk through the front door of their house. Tami cradles the new baby, and they sweet-talk all the way down the front corridor -- "Welcome home, baby Grace!" Once they get a glimpse of the living room, though, they stop in their tracks. There's crap strewn everywhere -- clothes draped on the back of the couch, the dining table piled high. Tami says she had asked Julie to straighten up. Julie comes rushing down the hall from her room, and Tami sweetly tells her to say hi to her sister -- "Oh! She's just opened her eyes!" Julie just sort of gapes at the little mammal: "Why's her head so pointy?" Way to teach your daughter about birth control, Taylors! The plan may be a little involved, but it's solid!
Julie moves toward the door, saying she has to get to work. Tami is surprised, because Julie was supposed to get the day off: "It's your baby sister's first day home." Julie mutters that she tried and then takes off. Tami calls after her "Say hello to the Swede!" As Tami goes to sit on the couch, remarking on the unbelievable mess, Coach asks who the Swede is. Tami replies that he's some boy Julie's been flirting with at the pool. Coach asks, "What about the Saracen?" Tami replies, "She's dating the Saracen and flirting with the Swede." Coach's hair is just like " Women !" Tami looks up at her husband and sweetly shrugs a shoulder: "Welcome home, sweetheart!"
Back at the pool, Tyra and Landry lie on the grass in the sweltering sun. Tyra tells Landry she thinks the whole football thing is a terrible idea and then asks if he really thinks his father will love him more if he makes the team. "Yes. Yes, I do," he says. Pause. And then, it is time for your standard "Can you put sunscreen on my back?" awkward flirting. Landry certainly does deliver on the "awkward" as he stutters that Tyra needs to remember to reapply multiple times throughout the day, then lays his hands on her like she's a sinner in need of redemption and he's her snake handler.
Julie and the Swede walk along the side of the pool while the Swede talks about a show he has on Thursday. Oh no. The Swede is in a band! Also: the Swede has no accent, so he isn't an exchange student. Who is this non-Swedish Swede? I'm so intrigued! He says the show is at the Bend, and Julie pretends like she's been there before. He says she should come by -- it starts at eleven -- and Julie agrees. She gets up into her seat and then smiles a smile of a thousand upcoming regrets as she watches him go.
Underneath a rusty old train trestle running over a pastoral little river, we hear some God talk before catching sight of a group of folks in white robes waiting their turns to get baptized in the river. We cut to Lyla, her hair looking so good it must be God's work, getting dunked and thus born again.
Lyla, in a sundress and ponytail (Hey! In accordance with Rule 46B !) places flyers under windshield wipers of cars in a parking lot. Given the rage I feel when I come across random Chinese Restaurant #1 flyers stuck under my wipers, I imagine I'd be pretty off-the-charts finding proselytizing flyers there. Riggins comes out of the store and shouts out to two random girls, "Ladies! Want to make some memories tonight?" Except his Canadian accent sort of shines through a bit, so it sounds like he says, "Wanna make some mammaries tonight?" The ladies must have thought it sounded like an easy project (given that they already have the items Riggins seems to be suggesting they make), so they agree, and he says, "I'm thinking like 7:30?" Okay. And then they all go their separate ways. Please note that nobody even stopped walking while making these "plans." Also please note the lack of specificity as to where these mammaries will be made this evening. Perhaps it just goes without saying that they'll meet down at the Mammary District?
Lyla overhears this whole exchange and smugly looks on from inside her glass house. Tim approaches her and asks where his flyer is before thumping his case of beer down on the bed of his truck. Lyla says she would be happy to save his soul and hands him a flyer. Tim reads aloud (Hooked on Phonics!): "Christ Teen Messengers." Tim waggles his eyebrows and takes a swig of beer before asking Lyla if it's a cult. Lyla isn't fazed: "Actually it's young Christians comin' together to worship and spread the word of Jesus." Without a beat, Tim replies, "You look good." And it's true; Lyla does look pretty smoking. Whether it's because of the word of Jesus or the words of John "Your Body is a Wonderland" Mayer, I'm not sure we'll ever know.
Lyla believes she knows, though, as she replies, "Thanks. It's probably because yesterday, I was baptized and accepted Jesus as my savior." Then she asks Tim what he's done recently. "Had a three-way with the Stratton sisters." Pow! I seriously have never seen such crackling chemistry between a lout and a prude before. I love this scene. Lyla tells Tim he shouldn't be going around bragging about his drunk summer, and Tim loses some snappy-dialogue points by suggesting she's just jealous. Lyla looks steely as she looks him straight-on and sasses, "Yeah, Tim. I'm jealous." She turns to go, but Tim decides to make one last volley, calling after her: "Just so you know, you're still number one. Still the best I've ever had." Ouch. That is low. Lyla turns around, clearly stung, but maintains her sass and her backbone: "Don't talk to me like that." Girls should say that more often. She turns and leaves, and Tim says "Enjoy Jesus." Lyla replies "Yeah, enjoy your depraved hedonism." Hee. Tim replies "Oh, I will," to which Lyla says she will, too, before catching herself and saying, "I mean, Jesus, not hedonism." Now just confused, she just keeps walking away, turning around one last time to call Tim a jerk.
Matt and Grandma (yeah!) wander through the grocery store. Grandma is saying to Matt that she doesn't care "what that man says," she's not going to take the "C" off his uniform. I guess Matt is not automatically going to be captain this year? They pass a display of canned hams, and Matt says they "don't need any of that meat stuff" before noticing Coach Taylor down another aisle. He says hi, and Grandma proceeds to freak out. "Oh my Lord!" Coach Taylor's hair is shouting to the world: "I've got a brand new baby! I'm exhausted but loving it!"
Grandma moves on, and Coach rapid-fires dialogue at Matt: "Why haven't you come by to see Grace yet?" Matt's dialogue is somewhat more swampy: "Cuz, cuz, I have two-a-days." Matt says Julie's been telling him about the baby, and Coach interrupts, "How you and Julie doin'?" Matt says they're doing good, but then asks if Julie's said anything to Coach. Coach is like, naw, she ain't saying anything to me: "Is there something I'm supposed to know?" Matt is SO out of his league here. Coach grunts at Matt, instructing him to come by to see the baby, and Matt sort of just lags along. Coach pauses and then reaches a hand out to Matt. "Hey," he says, grabbing the boy's hand in a firm shake. "Don't just stand by and watch it happen. You know what I'm sayin'?" What a man , you know? I sometimes get confused, being a thirty-one-year-old woman, over whether I should be hot for the twenty-somethings playing the teens or for the forty-somethings playing the dads. But this scene is just clearing that confusion right the hell up.
Matt leaves, and Coach's cell phone rings. They need him back at TMU this Friday. What, is there some sort of shoulder-pad emergency? That just seems stupid.
Tyra and Landry leave the pool, making plans to maybe hang out later. Tyra walks toward her truck in the parking lot and notices a guy lurking around in an old maroon sedan. Clearly the dude who tried to rape her . His car starts inching toward her, and then he steps on the gas and nearly runs her over. What is this, Maximum Overdrive ? Landry runs after her to see if she's okay and Tyra exposits, "I...I think that was him. The guy who attacked me?"
The Taylors'. Coach sits with head bowed in exhaustion, the baby presumably asleep in a bassinet in front of him. Julie comes in and immediately goes toward her room. Coach calls her over and she comes reluctantly, telling him she's really tired and just wants to go to bed. She perches on the couch defensively. Coach asks, "How you doin'?" He peers into the bassinet and then asks her how she and Matt are. She's tightlipped and just answers, "Good." Coach pauses again and then asks, gruffly, "Who's this Swedish guy?" Julie isn't having it. She stares at him and then asks what business it is of his. Coach stares back and tells her he's her father, so it's his business. Julie turns up the sullen bitch and snarks that he just comes back after eight months away and expects to have "these deep, long conversations?" So awkward and perfect. She says she's done and gets up to leave. Coach calls once quietly, "Come here." Then a little louder: "Come here!" Then he yells, "C'mere!" but three times is never the charm with a teenager.
Commercials. Football practice. New Coke -- who I think we all hope is about as long-lasting as New Coke -- spots Buddy across the way and asks Mac what he's doing there. Mac says he's just watching, and New Coke instructs Mac to send Buddy home: "I run closed practices." Mac approaches Buddy, who's cooling himself in front of a big fan like a demented fat seagull frolicking in a strong wind. Mac makes brief small talk and then asks Buddy to leave. New Coke is shouting at the players while Buddy starts shouting at Mac about New Coke. Mac tells Buddy to bring this up later. Buddy listens to reason and walks off, shaking his head. On the field, Tim Riggins has done something or other wrong, and New Coke walks up to him and starts verbally abusing him like it's an episode of Cops or something. Jason Street (hi!) looks on with concern. New Coke is screaming at Tim that he's "a miserable, miserable, God-dang football player. You have no potential." Tim doffs his helmet and throws it on the ground, walking out of practice. New Coke is livid. Street ineffectively tries to get Tim not to walk away.
Tyra drives down the road, stupid possessed car in her rearview window. Dumb, dumb, dumb. This storyline is dumb. What a weird way to stalk someone, anyhow. Tyra pulls off the road into the parking lot of the police station. Into which you would HOPE she might go to report this nonsense.
Landry and Matt drive up to the convenience store. Landry is talking about how Tyra asked him to lotion up her back, but Matt is barely paying attention. Inside the store, Matt looks at a magazine that has a huge picture of Smash on the cover. Landry snarks that he "really looks like a captain." So, Matt has been deposed of his captainhood by Smash? Eh, who cares. Now, here's something we care about: Julie walks up! Matt and Julie FOREVAH!!! She greets her boyfriend awkwardly. Landry pretends to busy himself by the Cheetos. I don't know why he has to pretend ; I find Cheetos rather absorbing, myself. Matt asks Julie to go to this party at Lake Ryan on Thursday. Julie tries to beg off, saying she was going to stay in and read a book. Ooooh, girl. Matt keeps at it, though, saying that the whole team is going, and everyone who has a girlfriend will have his girlfriend there: "Aaand, since you're my girlfriend...I was kinda hoping you'd go, too." Julie keeps stalling, and Matt continues, telling her that she means a lot to him. "And I don't want to just...lose you." This gets through to her, and she stutters that it sounds great and she'll try to make it. She walks off. Wow, things are worse off between them then I thought they were. They seemed like awkward strangers in that scene together.
Lyla sits, looking dejected, as a truly heinous man serves food to her, her siblings, and her mother. Let me clarify: There is tofu involved . Lyla's mom says it "looks delish." Things are clearly bad in the Garrity broken home. Not only is there now tofu at the dinner table, there are also unnecessary and overly precious abbreviations. The man suggests they dig in, and Lyla snaps to attention: "Aren't we forgetting something?" The Dude says no, but Lyla's mom realizes and makes a move to join hands. Lyla leads the grace, thanking God for the food. She continues, asking God for guidance in making good choices: "For example, not taking advantage of a vulnerable and recently separated but not yet divorced woman, and in turn to give others at the table the strength to know that a mother of three should not be wearing skinny jeans." Dear Tiny, Infant Jesus that was a good grace.
The Taylors'. Tami comes into the kitchen looking tired, but also looking super-hot in an oversized man's work shirt. She whispers, "Please, sleep...baby...girl," and then she sits down and exclaims that Eric has made some cookies. She eats, sighs deeply, and says, "You're nice to me." Eric pauses and then just rips the Band-Aid off and tells her he has to go back on Friday. Tami immediately looks weepy but manages to hold it together. She restrains herself to remarking that they were supposed to have two weeks. Coach recounts what Carl said, "blah blah blah, passed the buck up onto the top." Tami now looks like a staring, wounded deer. Coach reminds her that this is what he does, basically saying they need to suck it up. Tami gets up and moves to the couch. Coach follows her and continues talking, while Tami continues staring into the middle distance. You can almost see the emergency wall she's building up around her heart. And that takes all your energy, so much that you can't talk, you can't communicate. Coach continues blathering, saying he can't do his job half-assed, and then faced with her continuing silence, he asks her to speak. Tami begins moving her mouth but nothing comes out. She tears up a bit when Coach isn't looking, and you know she is scrambling inside her own head, knowing she should talk but really just wanting him to leave so she can break down in private. Eric finally says "That it?" and then when she nods, he gets up, grabs the keys, and says he'll be back in a bit. He leaves and she just lets loose. Connie Britton is not afraid of an ugly cry.
Commercials. God, I've been so distracted by the extreme lameness of Tyra's storyline (well, to be honest, I think I was first distracted by her tiny bikini, then the lame storyline) that I didn't notice Adrianne Palicki's incredibly cute new bob, which she's sporting in a funny little teen-driving PSA. Which, frankly, is sort of a weird, because it isn't about drunk driving but rather seems to be about teens just disappearing while out driving. Hey, parents? Maybe they're just not that into you.
Cut to someone watching The Dog Whisperer . You hear Cesar saying, "The dog thinks he's the boss. He is not the boss; you are the boss." Heh. I can only summon that brief "heh" because right now, my dog -- the beagle rescue we got recently -- is demanding that I prepare him a cup of tea. With milk and lemon. Which I will do. Like a sucker. Turns out, it's Buddy Garrity watching The Dog Whisperer , which is perfect. I bet a lot of men out on their keisters take comfort in watching Cesar take charge of an animal. Coach taps on the window, and it becomes clear that Buddy is hanging out in his office.
Buddy immediately starts complaining about New Coke throwing him out of practice, blah blah blah. Coach wonders how long Buddy's been sleeping in his office. One might also wonder, if Coach doesn't know this information, how he knew to find Buddy there in the first place. Buddy insists he doesn't sleep there often, but just works late sometimes. Whatever, Midlife Crisis. Just then Pam appears (Lyla's mom, in case others out there also didn't immediately remember her name). She perfunctorily congratulates Coach on the baby and then pulls Buddy out for a chat. She demands to know what he was doing at soccer practice tonight. Buddy wants to know how a smart, intelligent woman like herself could fall for "a little tree-hugger who makes seven dollars an hour at that health-food store." Oh, snap! She retorts, "Okay, he OWNS that health-food store?" Uh, somehow that retort just doesn't carry much force. Especially not in Texas. Then she wants to know if Buddy was at her "meditation group" the other night, too. Like mother, like daughter, with the searching for meaning in weird places, I guess. Read some novels, ladies.
Pam storms out while Buddy follows her, blabbing about how he is just trying to protect his children from being turned into "communists, with all his hippie ideas." As he follows her, he sees that Rice Dream is waiting for Pam in an SUV outside. Buddy goes bananas. Coach hears and rushes out to try to break it up. Buddy is screaming and clawing at the door, while the Tofu Weenie rolls down the window just a tiny bit to tell Buddy to calm down. Buddy's got the remote key thingy for this car somehow and is clicking the doors open, but Nayonaise keeps relocking the doors. Buddy somehow gets the door open and drags Tofurkey out of the car. But Eric is finally there, restraining Buddy, so we don't really get to see what the Not Dog is made of. Pam and Chik'N Patty drive off, the Spelt Cutlet flashing the peace sign out of the window. Oh, Lord. You just know this man's pants are elastic-waist. Way to make me root for Buddy Garrity, show.
Out in the blazing sun, New Coke, Mac, and Street watch Tim run stairs. New Coke and Mac discuss what they're having for dinner, how they need to get in shape, et cetera. Riggins is rapidly losing it. Mac says he's had enough, but New Coke instructs five more. Mac calls it out and Tim heads back up the stairs. Barely making it three more steps, Tim leans over and pukes. New Coke turns around, disgusted, and tells him he's done. Jason looks on in concern.
Jason is in New Coke's office and prefaces what he has to say with, well, a preface, which you know isn't going to go over well. Tyrants don't like prefaces, I don't think. Jason says that he knows Tim Riggins, and New Coke's technique of leaning on him isn't going to get any results. New Coke interrupts Jason and tells him he has to decide if he's the team mascot (ouch, dude) or a football coach. He can't be both, and he can't be friends with the players. Who are, uh, his friends.
Eric is trying to put together a crib that appears to be growing legs and licking him with its tongue. He sort of takes some of the unruly wood and just chucks it, but then he tries to play it cool when he hears Julie coming out of her room. He and Julie have an argument about curfew. Well, he argues, and Julie ignores him. Eric is under the impression that she's going to go out with the ever-convenient Lois. He follows her toward the front door, pleading, "Where are your shoes?" She replies tartly, "I'm not wearing shoes, Dad!" Shuts the door behind her. Kind of sassily awesome.
Big party at a McMansion on the lake. Lots of drunken debauchery, and, it seems, even some smoke machines. Kids these days. Matt sits alone and despondent.
Landry shows up to a skittish Tyra's house to check out some noises she called him about. She directs him to the backyard, and Landry ventures out with a baseball bat, telling her that her "knight in shining armor has arrived." He hears a rustle and goes into high alert, but then he sort of takes a wide berth, calling out, "Tyra, it's a skunk!" Tyra crinkles her eyebrows in relief and disbelief that Landry could be so sweet.
Dive bar. Julie...and Lois!...walk in with some trepidation. An eleven o'clock show on a Thursday? I'm not so sure that's prime "all ages" territory, so I don't know why no one is carding at the door. Lois mutters that they should have gone to the party and that her mom is going to kill her. I suppose they can drive, since I think they let fetuses drive in Texas, and that's how they got there. Julie tells Lois to go ahead and leave, and Lois -- the bitch! -- does.
Julie walks toward the stage where the Swede is croaking out a song and sweating all over the place, and Julie is totally hot for the sweaty croaker. Oh, sweetie. I cannot judge you, for I have been there. He makes eye contact with her in the crowd -- the fantasy to top all fantasies! -- and she smiles back at him. Cut to a shot of Matt and his plastic cup of dejection. Which tastes just like Old Style, mmmm.
Commercials. Landry, on a cell phone, whispering: "Matt, I'm in Tyra Collette's bathroom." He's calling for advice on how to get his arm around Miss Collette as they sit on the couch watching Fried Green Tomatoes . Is it suddenly 1957? Matt backs it up for a moment: "Wait, does she want you to touch her?" Landry is like, cram it, Mr. Ethical, and tells Matt he doesn't need relationship advice; he just needs some moves for his arsenal. Landry is pawing through the toiletries, squeegee-ing his ears out and such. Matt tells him to first try to brush his arm against hers, and if she doesn't seem weirded out to go for the full nelson. Landry is spazzing out, asks Matt how the party is, but then ignores Matt's lament that Julie never showed up.
Landry and Tyra are on the couch. She is totally overlapping shoulders with him, but just staring with emotive eyes at the movie. He's clearly in the friend zone. Landry is sort of brushing his fingers along her bare arm and makes a very awkward "juuusst sittttting forrrward for a moment" before trying to go for it. The moment he makes contact, though, Tyra suddenly turns to him. He apologizes, but she steamrolls right over the awkward and asks if he's hungry. He stutters out a "yes," and she nods her head tightly, saying, "Let's go get some food." She launches off the couch.
Julie is bathed in the red light of the first of many divey rock shows she will attend at which she will make a fool of herself. Call me, Jules. I have so much advice for you. At least just try to stay away from the venues with photo booths. That is, unless you want recorded for all time that one night when you stuck a tongue in the ear of, like, Better Than Ezra's guitar tech . The Swede makes his way toward her, and she starts gushing, which makes him uncomfortable, but she can't stop: "It was amazing! Emotional and heartbreaking and..." Oh, dear God. Jules, CALL ME. Just as Julie is trying and not succeeding to muddy up her own virginal waters, a girl walks up to the Swede and gives him a kiss. He turns to Julie and introduces her to...his girlfriend. This whole scene is seriously calling up too many painful memories for me. The girlfriend is like, "Oh, yeah, right! Julie. Your high-school bud." Aiieeee. They leave, but not before the Swede leans in and gives Julie...a high five.
Julie stands outside the bar, alone and dejected. Cut to her getting in the car, Coach craning his neck to see exactly which Satan's den he's picking her up at. He turns to her: "You've gotta be kidding me." Heh. She asks if they can just go, but an upper hand is not something she has right now. Her dad demands to know what she's doing at a place like that at 12:30 at night. She tries to interrupt him, saying she knows she's grounded, but can he please not yell at her? He tells her that he has to leave tomorrow night, and that he needs to know now what the hell is going on. Julie breaks down and confesses, and it is a heartbreaking confession: "I came here chasing some boy, and got totally humiliated because, guess what? He has a girlfriend. I misread every stupid signal." Oh, I just want to wrap her up and brush her pretty, pretty hair.
Coach realizes that these aren't your normal curfew-breaking shenanigans and pauses, wiping his face. He's still pretty gruff with her, which I love, because he's a gruff dad. "What's going on with you and Matt? What's wrong with that?" Julie tells him that nothing at all is wrong. And that is the problem. She's tired of being the "It couple." Oh, well, I guess since Heath and Michelle broke up, maybe they could be in the running. Julie feels like, being with Matt, her future is written for her. Matt's going to turn into her dad; she's going to turn into her mom. "I'm sixteen," she says. "There has to be more than this." Wow. That's got to be hard to hear as a parent. Julie says she just feels so guilty for feeling the way she does. Coach's hair is, like, YEARNING for Tami to just I Dream of Jeannie up in the backseat of the car. He sighs and then puts a paw on his daughter's head. He tells her that she can leave Matt and no one will love her any less. "The other guy sounds to me like, you know, he's some other guy. He's just some other guy. Hell with him." What a man. What a G-D man. Julie tells him that she really misses having him around.
Landry and Tyra walk toward some shady little country grocery jabbering about junk food. But Tyra turns on her heel, saying she can't go in because the Collette account is a little overdue. Oh, God. The crickets are chirping ominously, and the handheld camera is practically shouting "NBC EXECUTIVES, DON'T MAKE US DO THIS!" Tyra calls Landry her knight in shining armor as he goes into the store. A spooooky red sedan pulls up behind Tyra. Landry is inside, smiling to himself, while Tyra waits outside for her season's storyline to go straight down the tubes.
The creep walks right up to her, asking how the movie is, and adding, "Man, if I was on the couch with you, there's no telling what I would've done." Oh my God, this is all so late '90s. I'm calling you... from inside the house , reee reee reee reee! The guy sweats his way toward her, grabbing her and throwing her against a pole just as Landry comes out of the store. He sees what's happening, drops his bags, and runs toward them. There's a struggle, and Landry gets chucked to the side. The guy saunters off, calling out that he's going to be back for Tyra. Landry gets up, finds a metal pipe in his hand, and runs after the guy. Thwack one, the guy stumbles. Thwack two, and the guy is totally deadski.
Okay. Can we stop right here? This? I could be okay with as a ratings ploy. A threatened manslaughter conviction, lots of tears, et cetera. I could go along with that. What I cannot go along with, however, is that these two decide, rather than calling the police, to instead lug the nearly dead body of this jerk into the backseat of Landry's nerdmobile.
So both Landry and Tyra are crying and desperate and you will be hard-pressed to convince me that they are in this state for any other reason than the complete and utter screwed-the-poochness of their storyline. They get in the car, and Landry sits in the back with the body while Tyra drives and cries. Landry swears and then says that the guy has stopped breathing. He's dead. Tyra stops the car on a bridge. They get out and wander around desperately for a bit. Landry gets out his cell phone to call his dad -- HIS DAD -- who is a cop -- A COP. But Tyra grabs the phone out of his hands and cries some more. And Landry cries some more. And for once in the history of the universe, I am not crying along with the show. The two seem to suddenly notice they are on a bridge, over water, and Tyra nods her head yes. Landry says they can't, but Tyra says they can't do anything else. So we end on a shot of swiftly running water. May as well have been a shot of the swiftly running water of a flushed toilet.
Commercials. Limping to a conclusion now. We open on the swiftly running water again, and Wilco's "Muzzle of Bees" replays. God this is a beautiful song. Also, appropriate in ways they maybe didn't anticipate. Because, sometimes, when my dog goes nosing in an empty pizza box on the street he comes away with a muzzle of ants. Which he then spends a half-hour kind of snuffling and blowing and trying to shake off. Not a bad representation of what I'm doing right now, trying to get the Landry/Tyra storyline out of my head.
Anyhow, the song plays, and Landry and Tyra drive sadly. Then we get the cutest shot of baby Grace looking wide-eyed and hilarious and precious in her father's hands. Julie approaches the pair from behind but doesn't disturb them. Tami comes in and sits down next to her husband and new baby and puts her arm around Eric, nodding in Julie's direction. She's cleaning the dishes. Cut to the football field, where the boys are having their championship rings presented to them. Coach Taylor is the emcee. Landry and Tyra are there, looking guilty. The Garritys watch their father with stiff jaws. Coach presents Jason with his ring, and everyone looks moved, except for the real-world viewers who have, like, forgotten who Jason Street is. We end on Coach in the plane, looking down through the black night onto the Friday-night-lit football field, which looks tiny and inconsequential in the distance. Let's just hope that this show doesn't end up looking that same way after tonight.